


You Called Me Haunted

by GotTheSilver



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Developing Relationship, Getting Together, M/M, POV Sheriff Stilinski, Sheriff Stilinski Finds Out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-10
Updated: 2014-08-10
Packaged: 2018-02-12 14:53:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2114127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GotTheSilver/pseuds/GotTheSilver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a canon divergent fic.</p><p>
  <i>Stiles has been keeping a lot of secrets and John is at the point where he’s losing patience.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Right now, though, John’s standing on the lacrosse field, trying to forget about all the bodies that have turned up, and wondering where the hell his son is.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Called Me Haunted

**Author's Note:**

> canon divergent fic written for the TW Throwback.
> 
> with many thanks to BK, this fic probably wouldn't exist without her help.

Despite what his son might like to believe sometimes, John Stilinski isn’t a stupid man. Beacon Hills is a strange town, has always been a strange town, and he _knows_ it’s had a lot to do with The Hales. John doesn’t believe it’s a coincidence that strange things started happening again in this town once Derek Hale came back, and he really doesn’t think it’s a coincidence that his kid is somehow involved.

Stiles has shown up at more crime scenes than John cares to remember — sometimes John thinks Stiles might’ve been better off if he’d had a different job — but this is different. Has been different for a while. Dead bodies aren’t a regular occurrence in Beacon Hills, and Stiles has been uncomfortably near almost all of them as they’ve shown up.

John never says a word to anyone, but he knows at the back of his mind that nothing about what’s been going on is normal. If he’s honest with himself, he can’t really be surprised that Stiles is involved, and that has very little to do with Stiles’ innate curiosity and more to do with Derek Hale. Stiles has never been shy about who he’s attracted to, and John absolutely noticed that when Derek came on the scene, Stiles stopped mentioning Lydia as much. Stopped mentioning anyone, actually.

Stiles has been keeping a lot of secrets and John is at the point where he’s losing patience.

Right now, though, John’s standing on the lacrosse field, trying to forget about all the bodies that have turned up, and wondering where the hell his son is.

*

He’s got the whole department out looking for Stiles, and is on his phone when Stiles walks in and — he’s _hurt_ , his kid is hurt and that’s — John is barely containing his rage as Stiles yells at him that he’s fine, that it’s okay.

“It’s not okay, Stiles. Not at all.” Running a hand through his hair, John glares at his kid. “Sit down.”

“Dad, I —”

“Sit down.” Recognising the huff that Stiles gives before he sits down is bittersweet for John, and he tries not to think about what Claudia would have to say about everything that’s been happening. “You’ve been keeping secrets from me, and I get that, you’re a teenager, but this has gone far enough.”

“What are you —”

“Deaths. People being paralysed. Animal bites. And that’s just for starters.”

“That’s not — things happen, it’s a strange town.”

“Stiles!” The way Stiles’ head snaps up when John yells at him makes something inside John ache, wanting to protect his kid from whatever it is that’s got him so scared. “Tell me what’s been going on. I know it wasn’t the opposing team who did this to you, I know something’s been going on ever since you and Scott found Laura Hale’s body in the woods. Did you think I wouldn’t notice that Scott doesn’t need his inhaler? That he’s suddenly the star of the lacrosse team? That whatever happened at the station that night has meant Melissa’s been lying to me? And those three kids hanging around with Derek? It’s not a gang because they’re not doing anything illegal, but it’s something. I’m your _father_ , Stiles. Before anything else, before my duty to this town, I’m your father. You come first.” John lets out a breath and looks at Stiles, shaking his head. “Just tell me.”

Stiles’ face crumples like it used to when Claudia would tell him it was time for bed, and John’s by his side in an instant, curling an arm around his shoulders and pulling him in for a sideways hug.

“You won’t believe me,” Stiles says, sniffing back tears, flexing his hands. “You — it’s so messed up. So, so messed up, I didn’t want you to know.”

“Kid, this town has been messed up since before you were born.”

There’s a choked laugh from Stiles and he straightens up, pulling away from John and wiping his eyes. “Werewolves.”

“Excuse me?”

“Werewolves. That’s what’s been going on.”

John waits a beat and then, “a werewolf beat you up?” There’s absolutely no reason for John to be believing any of this, but he knows his kid, he knows when Stiles is lying, and this isn’t one of those times.

“What? No, no, not at all. A hunter beat me up —” Stiles stops talking, wincing as he presses his fingers to his split lip. “Sorry, I — there’s a lot.”

John’s never seen his kid look so exhausted, so _defeated_ , and he takes a moment to focus his thoughts. “What’s the most important thing I need to know right now?”

“Derek’s a werewolf,” Stiles says, and oh, how John wishes he could be surprised that Stiles associates ‘important’ with ‘Derek’. “There are hunters, the Argents —”

“Hold on, Allison beat you up?”

“No, her grandfather.”

“Your new school principal?”

“That’s not import —” Stiles breaks off and rubs his eyes. “He’s got Erica and Boyd and he’s torturing them.”

“Wait, wait, why does he have Erica and Boyd?”

“Because they’re werewolves. Derek’s the alpha and they’re his betas,” Stiles says, standing up and touching the bruise on his cheek. “They’re in trouble and I — he’s keeping them alive until he can get Derek. I have to —”

“Hey, hey, _you_ don’t have to do anything.”

“Yes I do,” Stiles explodes, waving a hand around. “Gerard wants Derek dead, and Boyd and Erica are bait. I have to stop him from going there.”

John waits for a moment, watching Stiles pace across his room, and then he nods. “We’ll get Derek, and we’ll go together.”

“Dad, no, you can’t — this is why I didn’t want you to know, you can’t be in danger.”

“Stiles, I’m the Sheriff.”

“You’re my _dad_.”

“You’re not going alone. Either you go with me, or you don’t go at all.”

Stiles makes a frustrated noise, but agrees, pulling out his phone as he thunders down the stairs. “Derek? Where are you?”

Sighing, John follows Stiles to the cruiser, hoping he’s not making a terrible decision.

*

John waits in the car while Stiles goes and gets Derek. Werewolves. It’s a process. He’s processing. When Derek comes out with Stiles, his jaw is set firmly, and with the new information about werewolves, part of John recognises that this is a predator; that if you’re the wrong person, Derek Hale could be very dangerous indeed. But then he looks closer as Derek gets in the car, and John sees the scared look in his eyes, the look that lets John know that whatever else Derek is, there’s a whole lot of terrified kid inside Derek.

“Lets go,” Stiles says, pushing Derek into the seat next to John and climbing in the back.

“There a reason you’re sitting back there?” John asks, turning his head and raising his eyebrows at Stiles.

“Just thought maybe you and Derek could talk,” Stiles says, fiddling with his phone. “I’m gonna try and call Scott.”

“So, Stiles tells me you’re a werewolf,” John says to Derek as they drive to the Argent’s house.

“Uh. Yes?”

“And your... pack?”

Derek’s shifting uncomfortably on the seat, and John would feel bad if he hadn’t been kept in the dark for so long. “Boyd, Erica, and Isaac are my pack.”

“Not my son?”

“Stiles could be. If he wanted. It’s complicated.”

“Because of Scott.”

Derek doesn’t respond to that, but he turns his head to look out of the window and John knows he’s hit a nerve. It’s not that he wants his son in a werewolf pack, but being that Stiles is already attached to Derek, it seems to John that he’d be safer actually being _in_ the pack than just running around sticking his nose into their business.

The car is quiet as they pull up to the Argent’s house and John switches the engine off, looking out of the car at their surroundings. “How are we doing this?”

“You’re asking me?” Derek says, turning to John with a furrowed brow.

“You’re the one with experience in this.”

“You’ve got the badge,” Derek shrugs. “I’ve got no reason to be here.”

“Guys, they’re hooked up to electricity,” Stiles interjects, his face almost totally pressed up against the divider. “Whatever we’re doing, can we get on with it?”

When they’re out of the car, Derek glances at John nervously. “I’m going to need to —”

Stiles rolls his eyes and claps a hand on Derek’s shoulder. “You’re gonna need to shift. We get it, big guy.”

“Forgive me for being sensitive about your _dad_ seeing me shift for the first time.”

“Oh, sorry, do you need a moment? Want me to hold your hand?”

“Boys,” John says sternly, gratified somewhat when Derek looks ashamed and stares at the ground. “Derek, do what you’ve got to do. I’ll deal with it.” Turning to his son, John sighs. “There’s no point in me asking you to stay out here is there?”

“Nope.”

“Didn’t think so.”

*

Seeing kids hurt has never been good for John, and even with Stiles and Derek assuring him that Boyd and Erica will heal, John can barely contain the rage he feels as he talks to Chris Argent.

“So you had no idea your father had kidnapped three teenagers and was torturing them in _your_ basement?”

“Three?” Chris looks up, frowning. “I thought only —”

“My son was down there. He’s the reason we knew Boyd and Erica were there, because Gerard let him go in order to get Derek here. Apparently, so that Gerard could kill Derek.”

“I didn’t know.”

“Bullshit,” comes Stiles’ voice from behind John. “Sorry, Dad.”

“Don’t be.”

Stiles strokes Erica’s hair where she’s laying on his lap, barely conscious, and shoots a glare at Chris. “Your dad came here for one reason, you _knew_ it, and you didn’t care. You let your wife die rather than become a werewolf because of your stupid code, Allison’s gone off the deep end because of Gerard; he kidnapped and tortured Boyd and Erica, beat me up, and all you can say is that you didn’t know?”

“I think what my son is saying, is that you need to get your house in order.” John grabs Chris by the throat and pushes him against the wall. “And if you ever come near my son again, you won’t need to worry about getting your house in order.”

“Sheriff,” Derek says, resting a hand on his shoulder, his gaze fixed on Chris. “That’s enough.”

“He hurt my kid.”

“And he knows not to do it again.”

Letting out a breath, John lets Chris go, grim satisfaction in his eyes when Chris struggles to hold himself up. Before he knows what’s happening, Derek’s got his hand fisted in Chris’ shirt, and his face is shifted, fangs glinting in the light. “The Sheriff is bound by human laws,” Derek says quietly. “I’m not. Remember that the next time you go after innocent members of my pack.”

Yeah, John would be okay with Stiles being in Derek’s pack.

*

“Is Jackson dead or not?”

John wanted to know what was going on in Stiles’ life, he did. This is what he keeps reminding himself as he listens to Stiles on the phone with Scott, pressing a cold compress to Boyd’s forehead.

“They’ll be okay, right?” he asks Derek, watching the way he paces like a trapped animal. “Erica and Boyd?”

“They’ll heal,” Derek says, stopping by the window, his hands in fists by his side.

Leaving the compress on Boyd’s forehead, John joins Derek by the window, staring out at the street. “What’s wrong with Jackson?”

“I bit him. It didn’t work.”

“You bit him tonight?”

“No, after I first became alpha. It’s — there’s an urge to make a pack when you’re an alpha and Jackson... he was there.”

“I doubt that boy would be anyone’s first choice.”

“Sometimes what you become reflects who you are. The kanima... Jackson’s broken. He turned into something cold, something that needed a master. Matt was that master for him, and then Gerard killed Matt and took that over.”

“Knew there was something fishy about that kid’s death.”

“I’m sorry,” Derek says quietly, not looking at John. “I’m the reason Gerard beat up Stiles.”

“Derek, you’ve met my kid, right? Once Scott was in this world, Stiles was in this world. There wouldn’t have been anything to stop him.”

“I’m the alpha, I’m responsible for —”

“You’re a kid, Derek. You don’t need to be responsible for everyone. You’ve got support in this town, even if you don’t realise it.”

“Hey, guys?”

John turns around to look at Stiles, shifting from foot to foot with his phone in his hand. “What is it, Stiles?”

“Scott says that Jackson is, uh, changing? Like, the kanima skin is melting away? He doesn’t know what they should do.”

“Tell them to bring Jackson here,” Derek says.

“Why?”

“Stiles, just do it.”

“Tell me why, I don’t want Jackson’s dead body in my house.”

Derek huffs, muttering something under his breath that John doesn’t catch. “If he’s losing the kanima skin, then that means Gerard’s severed the link. He needs an anchor or else he’ll die.”

Nodding, Stiles turns back to the phone. “Did you hear that, Scott? Okay. Later.”

“You need to call your friend, Lydia.”

“She’s not my —” Stiles cuts himself off and narrows his eyes at Derek. “Why do I need to call her?”

“Because she’ll anchor Jackson.” Derek rolls his eyes at the face Stiles makes. “You don’t have to like it, Stiles, you just have to do it.”

John watches in amusement as Stiles mock glares at Derek before getting on the phone with Lydia. “You know how to handle him,” John says to Derek.

“I don’t — sorry, this is your house, I shouldn’t have this taking up your time.”

“Do you even have a house right now, Derek?”

“I have a place where I sleep.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“Since I got back, I haven’t really had time to look.”

John’s lips thin as he takes in the implications of that statement; the fact that this kid has been sleeping god knows where while carrying the world on his shoulders; that everyone, including him, decided to write off Derek as soon as he came back to town. “I’m sorry,” John says, tentatively touching Derek’s shoulder, not sure how casual touches are received by werewolves, especially Derek who has more issues than John can count. “We should’ve done more for you.”

That’s when Scott, Melissa, and Isaac crash through the door, carrying Jackson between them. “Um, hi Sheriff,” Scott says, smiling sheepishly as he holds Jackson under the armpits. “Where should we put him?”

“Is this going to be messy?” John asks Derek.

“Shouldn’t be, as long as Lydia gets here soon.”

“Kitchen table.”

“Dad!” Stiles protests. “We eat off that, I don’t want Jackson on it.”

Derek rolls his eyes and starts walking towards the kitchen. “I’ll get you a new one if you’re scared of Jackson cooties.”

“Dude, you don’t even have a house,” Stiles says, following Derek like an insistent puppy. “You can’t go around buying tables for people.”

*

John’s a little worried about how simple it seems to be. Once Lydia gets there, Jackson wakes up, there’s some flashing of eyes and some deep breathing and — look, John’s just happy there isn’t a dead kid in his house.

“Stiles told you?” Melissa leans against the wall with him, watching the kids leave the house, Scott, Derek, and Isaac hanging back with Stiles.

“He did.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t,” Melissa says, staring at the floor. “When I saw Scott, I —” she laughs a little. “I didn’t cope very well. You’re doing better than I did.”

“Well, my son isn’t a werewolf.”

“Just one who seems to want to hang around with werewolves.”

“Yep,” John says, making a face. “I honestly can’t decide if he’d be better off as one.”

“I think he’s doing okay as a human. We raised good kids, John. They’re the ones who will be okay. It’s the others who’ll need help.”

“Are you suggesting I adopt Derek Hale?”

Melissa snorts, knocking her shoulder against John’s arm. “No. But maybe he could do with being reminded what a family is.”

“Oh hell.”

“He’s hardly the scariest person you’ll have dealt with.”

John shakes his head, knowing that somewhere Claudia is laughing at him. “No, but I don’t want to know what Stiles’ reaction will be.”

“I’ll take Isaac if you take Derek.”

“We’re sharing them out now?”

“We’re giving them a chance.” Melissa pushes off the wall and tucks her hands in her pockets. “You know it’s the right thing to do.”

“My son and the werewolf he has a crush on under the same roof?” John scrubs a hand over his face. “Yeah, this’ll end well.”

*

Derek tries to refuse John’s offer up until Stiles makes some remark about abandoned train yards and then his mind changes. John doesn’t want to know. He doesn’t let John come with him, simply turns up on their doorstep with a duffle bag and a sheepish look on his face.

“I wanted to ask you something,” Derek says when they’re settled in the living room. “I know Mrs. McCall is taking Isaac in. He — as my beta, he’s my responsibility, and I know teenage boys cost a lot. Would she — I don’t want to offend her —”

“I’ll talk to her about taking your money.”

“Thank you.”

There’s silence in the room after that; John watches Derek, takes in the tenseness of his shoulders, the way his eyes dart around the room. He’s on the edge of the couch, one hand hovering above the handles of his duffle like he’s ready to run at any moment, and it’s all of this that makes John realise he’s making the right decision.

“Derek, I — I think you should see someone.”

“What?”

“You’ve been through a lot, even without involving all the supernatural things, and you need someone to talk to.”

“I’m fine.”

“Do you really believe that?” John asks gently. “If you do, then I won’t push you with this. But it’s okay if you don’t believe it. Derek, what you’ve been through is more than most people ever go through. I know — hell, we all screwed up here. Back when the fire happened, we should’ve — I want you to know you can stay here as long as you want.”

“Because you feel guilty?”

“Honestly? Yes, partly. I should’ve done more to make sure you and your sister were okay after the fire. But I also want you to know that you’re not alone _now_ , and that’s why I’m doing this. So, if you want someone to talk to, someone professional, you let me know.”

Derek nods and doesn’t say anything more. There’s a slight relaxation of his shoulders and John guesses that’s as good as he’s going to get.

*

John’s struggling to find the sheets upstairs for the spare room when Stiles comes home. He’s not eavesdropping, he’s not. Stiles knows full well that he’s at home, and besides, it’s his house. If his son wants to have conversations with Derek while in the house, he can’t be surprised when John overhears them.

“— okay staying here?”

“It’s fine, Stiles.”

There’s silence, and then — “are you sure? Because I know my dad kind of railroaded you into this.”

“Stiles, stop. It’s okay, I — unless you mind me staying here?”

“What? No, no it’s fine.”

“Your dad he — forget it.”

“What about my dad? Derek?”

“He wants me to see someone, to talk to someone professional.”

John stands stock still by the linen closet, surprised at the fact Derek is sharing this with someone, but somehow not shocked that he’s sharing it with Stiles.

“Okay?”

“Do you think I should?”

“Derek, dude, I’m not exactly an expert in mental health.”

“But you know me.”

“I do? Okay, I guess. Derek, I — no one can deal with what you’ve been through by themselves. You’ve been without someone to talk to for a long time, right? Maybe having someone to talk to would be good for you.”

Clutching the sheets in his hands, John lets out a breath, suddenly so proud of his son, of his kid’s ability to care for people. Steadying himself, John puts the sheets on the bed in the spare room and heads downstairs, not mentioning a thing at the way Stiles jumps away from Derek when he comes into the room.

“Hey, Dad, just welcoming our houseguest.”

“I trust you’re being nice.”

“Really, Dad?”

“Derek, the guestroom is a little dusty, it hasn’t been used in... a while.”

“That’s fine, I can clean it while you’re at work, Stiles is at school.”

“It wasn’t a —” John rests his hands on his hips. “You don’t have to do things for us to keep you.”

“He’s not a dog, Dad.”

“Stiles,” John says in exasperation. “Figure of speech. Derek, you don’t have to do anything around the house while you’re here.”

“I like to cook,” Derek says with a small shrug. “That’s not a bother for me.”

“Healthy stuff only,” Stiles interrupts, eyeing John. “No burgers and hot dogs.”

Rolling his eyes, John looks at Derek. “If you can save me from my son’s experimentations with food, then I’ll welcome it.”

“Way to sell me down the river, dad.”

“Stop bringing tofu in my house and I’ll stop critiquing your cooking skills.”

When Stiles huffs and turns away, John winks at Derek with a smile, and he counts Derek returning it as a small victory.

*

John comes home on Thursday to an unusually full house. It’s not that his kid is unpopular, well, okay, his kid has always been slightly unpopular. Stiles is an outlier, which he’s always appeared to be fine with; it’s always been him and Scott in their own little world. Up until now, John’s never had the experience of coming home to a house full of teenagers, and it’s a little unnerving up until the point where he realises they’re all doing homework.

Shaking his head at the scene, John heads upstairs, locks his gun away and gets changed out of his uniform. When he makes it down to the kitchen, he finds Derek in there, stirring a pot of something that smells better than anything made in their kitchen for a long time.

“What’re you making?”

“Oh, uh, chili,” Derek says, frowning at the huge pot of food. “Is that okay?”

“There meat in it?”

“Yeah.”

“Then we’re all good.”

Derek nods, turning back to the pot and adding some paprika. “Sorry about everyone taking over your house.”

“Derek, they’re sitting around doing homework. There’s nothing to be sorry about.” Searching in the fridge for a soda, John sits at the table. “Is it a pack thing?”

“Kind of,” Derek says. “They feel the need to be near their alpha, and I feel better when they’re around, but it’s also an ‘I don’t want to go to my own house’ thing. They’re teenagers.”

“I dimly recall,” John says dryly. “You’re not that much older than them. You could be with them.”

Derek raises an eyebrow at John. “I came in here because Erica kept trying to get me to do her English homework for her.” Turning down the heat, Derek joins John at the table. “She and Stiles are the only ones who know I was doing a degree before I came back.”

“Is that something you want to carry on doing?”

“Eventually.” Derek hunches over the table, his forearms resting on it, fingers tapping on the wood. “My pack is young, not just in age, they’re new and need... they need a lot. Training as individuals, training as part of a pack. They need to learn about being werewolves, what it means to have these gifts.”

“That sounds like a lot of pressure for you,” John says lightly, watching as Derek gets up to check on the chilli. “I can understand not wanting to study while taking on all that.”

“I also — I thought about it, and if you can help me find someone, I think I’d like to talk to a professional.” Derek switches the heat off and turns around; it doesn’t escape John’s notice that Derek’s avoiding his eyes like a scared animal, and he knows enough about cornered animals to not make a fuss about what Derek’s asking.

“I’ll get some names for you. Now, give me some of that before your pack realises it’s ready.”

There’s a faint smile on Derek’s face as he dishes out the chilli for John, before heading into the living room to let everyone else know it’s ready.

It’s chaos, that’s the only way John can describe it. There’s snacks, chilli, drinks, and kids everywhere. And, if he’s truthful, John’s enjoying having a full house again. Okay, he could do without Boyd and Isaac fighting over the television, and he’s not exactly happy about Jackson being in his house, but there’s an energy to it that’s fairly satisfying.

Derek’s on the couch, sitting forward and talking to Scott about control. Stiles is next to him, leaning against Derek’s shoulder in a way that John figures would be presumptuous for anyone but Stiles considering Derek appears to be comfortable with it. Possibly a little too comfortable, John narrows his eyes at the way Derek’s shoulders relax the more Stiles is close to him.

John’s not ready to deal with this. Werewolves? Yes. His son and a werewolf potentially dating? No.

*

“Stiles, come to the station after school.”

“Oh-kay? Why?”

“I need a reason to request the company of my son?”

“Oh my God, Dad, seriously?”

John smirks at Stiles’ reaction and waves a hand. “Go to school, I’ll see you later, right?”

“Yes, yeah. Bye.”

Having the morning off used to be relaxing for John; today, however, after Stiles has headed to school, John finds himself going over old cases in order to try and get a handle on just what the hell has been going on in his town over the past few years.

“So,” John says, holding up a file to Derek. “Your sister?”

“My uncle.”

“Your formally comatose uncle?”

“Yes.”

Derek’s hands distractedly graze over the other files on the table, and John sighs. “We don’t have to do this if it’s too difficult for you, Derek.”

“No, I —” Derek looks up and nods once. “You deserve an explanation.”

“If you need to stop, we stop. No arguments.”

“My uncle, Peter, he killed Laura for the alpha powers. Tore out her throat, cut her in half to make it seem like hunters did it.”

“The Argents?”

“Yes. Kate Argent, she — my family’s dead because of her.”

John takes in the dip of Derek’s head, the hunching of his shoulders, and decides to let that drop. There are some wounds he knows better than to pick at. “Okay, kid.” Putting Laura’s file on a different pile, he rest his elbows on the table. “Your uncle was responsible for Kate’s death?”

“And all the others leading up to it,” Derek says, sitting back in the chair. “He killed everyone who had something to do with the fire. Except Harris.”

“Stiles was disappointed about that,” John says idly, catching a smile on Derek’s face. “Still think that man should be fired, but I don’t run the public school system.”

“You’re the Sheriff, doesn’t that count for something?”

“Not as much as it used to.”

“It counts for something with me,” Derek says quietly.

*

“Soooooo, dad, what’s so important I had to skip out on important plans with Scott?”

“Playing video games isn’t important.”

“That hurts me to my core,” Stiles gasps, clutching at his chest.

Really, sometimes Stiles is so like Claudia, John can’t quite take it in. “Stiles, it’s about Derek.”

“You can’t kick him out,” Stiles says instantly. “I know he’s grumpy, but he’s a good person, and —”

Oh boy. “I’m not kicking him out,” John interrupts before Stiles can really get going.

“Oh.” Sitting back from where he’s pushed himself to the edge of the chair, Stiles nods. “Okay then.”

“Derek’s asked me to find him names of someone to talk to. A therapist.”

“Should you be telling me this?”

There are moments when John is so very proud of his son. “Derek said I could.”

“Okay, good,” Stiles says, twisting his fingers together. “I wouldn’t want — it’s his business, right?”

“What affects Derek, affects his pack, am I right?”

“Yeah, but I’m not a wolf.”

John eyes Stiles carefully. “That doesn’t mean you don’t have a connection with him.”

“Daaaaad.”

“Stiles.”

“I — we’ve saved each other’s lives a lot. That’s kind of a bonding thing, I guess. He... I get what he’s been through, a bit, because of mom. I like being around him. He’s not as tough as people think he is.”

“Now that, I know,” John says, wrapping his hand around his coffee mug. “I don’t know how Derek’s going to react to therapy.”

“Brooding, probably,” Stiles mumbles under his breath.

Ignoring that, John takes a sip of coffee, making a face at the temperature, and sighs. “However he reacts, I think — oh hell, just be there, okay?”

“For... cuddles?”

“For whatever he needs. You remember how hard it was after you visited Dr. Tweedy?”

“Yeah,” Stiles says quietly. “Yeah, I — I’ll be around.”

“I know it’s a lot to ask —”

“No, Dad, it’s not.”

There’s a set to Stiles’ jaw that has John wondering when his son grew up; if somehow he missed it while he was at work, while he was ignoring all the strange things happening in this town. It makes him wonder just how much else he’s missed.

“Is that it?” Stiles asks, interrupting John’s train of thought. “Anything else you want?”

“Pizza?”

“Nice try, pops.” Standing up, Stiles grabs his bag and turns to leave, pausing for a moment by the door. “This, all this stuff, the werewolves and everything, you’re okay, right?”

“Yeah, Stiles, I’m okay.”

Stiles nods at him and leaves the office. It wasn’t a lie John told his son, it was an exaggeration of sorts. He’s not okay; he’s barely got his head around the fact that his son has spent so much time in mortal danger, let alone finding the time to take in the fact that the kid who used to ask so seriously for the Spider-man band-aids is now a werewolf.

John’s got a werewolf staying with him — a werewolf he’s pretty sure his son has a crush on — a werewolf who needs therapy, and Stiles is asking if he’s okay? Well. He’s getting there.

*

“Where _is_ your uncle?” John asks Derek at dinner the next day.

“I have no idea,” Derek replies, spooning pasta onto his plate. “After everything, he just... vanished.”

“Yeah, and he’ll turn up again when we least expect,” Stiles says. “Why couldn’t he stay dead?”

“Stiles!”

“What? Derek agrees with me!”

“Can we not wish people dead at the dinner table?”

“So I can wish them dead at any other time?”

“How about we change the subject?” John says, placing his glass on the table and fixing Stiles with a glare.

“You brought it up,” Stiles protests. “But fine. So, Derek, are you coming to the fair with us or not?”

“I already said no, Stiles,” Derek says around a mouthful of pasta and sauce.

“Werewolves are such elegant creatures.” Gulping down some soda, Stiles wriggles in his chair and looks over at Derek. “C’mon, you have to come. Big alpha in charge and everything.”

“So you want me there to supervise?”

“No, I want — _we_ want you there because we like hanging out with you.”

John watches in fascination as Derek’s face softens in reaction to Stiles’ words; he looks younger, lighter, like he did when John first came across him and his family in Beacon Hills. It’s a sudden reminder of just how young Derek actually is.

“You should go to the fair,” John says at last. “It’d be good for you.”

“Yeah,” Stiles agrees, nodding. “You can buy us cotton candy.”

Derek snorts, wiping up the last of the sauce on his plate with some bread. “You’ll eat it all, go on a ride, and puke on my shoes.”

“Dude, my stomach is like steel.”

Coughing, John picks up his plate and puts it in the sink. “I seem to remember a five year old who said the same thing and ended up puking in the car.”

“That’s really unfair, Dad, I was _five_.”

“I’d hold off on the cotton candy, Derek,” John says, squeezing Derek’s shoulder as he passes back to the table.

“Rude, Dad, rude.” Stiles grabs a grape from the bowl on the table and pops it in his mouth. “You’ll totally get me cotton candy, right Derek?”

Derek sighs. “After you’ve gone on all the rides you want to, not before.”

“Will you win me a cuddly toy as well?”

“Pushing your luck, Stiles,” Derek responds, but there’s a smile on his face that John doesn’t ever think he’s seen before. He can’t exactly decide if that’s a good thing or not, but it’s a change. John can deal with change. Probably.

*

Derek has his first therapy session the day before the fair, and if the way Stiles is pacing around the living room is anything to go by, John might have to be the one here for Derek when he gets home.

“Stiles, take a break would you?” John folds the sports pages in half and looks at Stiles over the top of his reading glasses. “He’ll be home when he’s done.”

“What? No, I’m not —” Stiles hangs his head and sighs. “I want him to be okay. Is that weird? I feel like maybe that’s weird.”

“It’s not weird, Stiles. It’s who you are. Come here, sit down.”

Stiles huffs, but sits on the couch, his fingers tapping against his thighs. “He deserves to be okay,” Stiles says quietly. “A lot has been happening.”

“Stiles, there’s a lot of things that I haven’t taught you yet, but don’t ever be ashamed about caring for someone.”

“Even a grumpy alpha werewolf?”

“Especially those.”

Picking the paper back up, John relaxes back into his chair and waits, listening to the tell tale signs of Stiles tapping away at his phone. Not long after that, Derek comes home, his eyes rimmed red, and John shoots Stiles a look before saying, “who wants take out?”

“You’re not getting fries,” Stiles says, heading off to get the menus from the drawer in the kitchen. “Veggie burger,” he adds when he comes back in. “That’s what you can have.”

“At least let me have pudding,” John grumbles, taking the menu from Stiles.

“Maybe,” Stiles replies, tuning away from him. “Derek, you pick what we watch, I’m going to grab a soda.”

“Uh, okay?” Derek takes the remote from Stiles, his brow furrowed as he clicks through the guide.

John shakes his head and huffs out a laugh. “Don’t worry,” he tells Derek. “You’ll get used to the way he steamrolls over people he cares about.”

If it’s possible, the furrow of Derek’s brow gets even deeper at that, and he stares dumbly at the menu that John passes him, a re-run of Criminal Minds playing on the television.

“This? You want to watch this?” Stiles makes a face as he sits next to Derek, taking back the remote. “We get enough death in the real world, where’s Cartoon Network?”

“I thought you said I should pick?”

“That’s when I thought you’d make good choices.”

“I wasn’t finished looking,” Derek says, taking the remote back from Stiles. “Your dad was talking to me.”

“Oh? What was he saying?”

“Nothing.”

“Yeah,” Stiles mutters, shooting John a look. “That’s not suspicious at _all_.”

Making a face at Stiles, John throws the cordless phone at him. “Says the kid who hid the supernatural from me.”

“To protect you,” Stiles says. “Also, ow?”

“Order the food already.”

“Love you too, pops.”

*

“Shhhh, my dad’s probably asleep.”

“You’re the one making noise.”

John grunts at the noise, shifting uncomfortably in his chair, registering too late that there’s files on his lap and sighing when they all fall to the floor.

“Dad? What are you still doing up?”

John opens his eyes to see Stiles standing over him, cheeks flushed and clutching an oversized stuffed bunny rabbit. Sitting up, a hand resting on the one file still on his lap, John rolls his eyes. “I’m not still up, I fell asleep in the chair.”

“Why did you fall asleep in the chair?”

“Because I was tired, Stiles, jeez. Where’s Derek?”

“Putting away the treats we bought at the fair.”

“And the rabbit?”

Derek walks into the room and snorts at the mention. “He made me win that for him.”

“Please, like you didn’t enjoy showing off all your werewolfy strength,” Stiles says, putting the rabbit down and kneeling to pick up the scattered files. “I felt left out, everyone else had a cuddly toy.”

“Everyone else in a _couple_ won a cuddly toy,” Derek mutters, taking the files as Stiles passes them to him.

If it’s possible, Stiles’ cheeks flush even darker and, well, John’s not touching that with a barge pole. “Pile them on the table,” he says to Derek. “I’ll sort them out tomorrow.” Rubbing his eyes, John looks at them both, Stiles getting to his feet and picking his rabbit back up. “You both have fun?”

“Erica breaking the record at the strong man test isn’t something I’ll easily forget,” Stiles says. “I thought the dude running it was going to cry.”

“Good to know you’re spreading joy and cheer wherever you go.”

“Always.”

“Derek? You enjoy yourself?”

Derek looks up like he’s surprised to be addressed, but he nods, a small smile on his face. “Stiles didn’t throw up after gorging himself on junk, so I think that was good.”

“Hey!” Stiles thwacks Derek on the arm with the stuffed rabbit. “And to think I was going to name this after you.”

“Please don’t,” Derek says, making a pained face. “That’s just disturbing.”

“You don’t want a bunny named after you?”

“Not a bright purple one whose eyes look like they could kill me.”

Getting out of his chair, John rubs his face. “If you two are going to do this, I’m going to bed.”

“Do what?” Stiles asks, the ears of the rabbit squashed against his chin.

“You know what,” John says sternly. “And, as your father, I don’t need to be witness to it.” Glancing at Derek, John wonders if he’s gone too far, if maybe Derek isn’t up to acknowledging whatever this connection he and Stiles seem to have. Instead of looking nervous, or worried, there’s a flush high on Derek’s cheeks and he’s trying to hide a smile as he looks at Stiles. He’s failing, but John appreciates the effort. “Goodnight boys.”

“Goodnight, Dad.”

“Night, Sheriff.”

John pauses in the doorway. “Derek, you can call me John, if you want. You are living here now.”

“I — okay.”

“Good. See you both tomorrow.”

John’s halfway up the stairs when he hears their conversation start up again.

“Did you really have a good time today?”

“You think I lied to your dad?”

“No! I just — I did kind of make you come to the fair, so —”

“I had a good time, Stiles.” There’s quiet for a moment and John starts back up the stairs until he catches Derek talking again. “— when we were younger. It was almost a test for us, to see if we could control our shift around so many people. I didn’t do as well as Laura, but my dad took me up on the ferris wheel when my claws started to come out. He never made it seem like a punishment, just as part of learning to be a wolf.”

“He sounds like a good dad.”

“He was.”

“I — I’m glad you’re talking to someone. After my mom died, I went to see someone. It wasn’t easy, but it helped, kind of.”

“This definitely isn’t easy.”

“Is it helping?”

“Yes.”

“Then it’s worth it.”

“You think so?”

“Well, you smiled today, I consider that progress.”

There’s a low laugh from Derek, and the sound of both of them sitting on the couch. “You think I should be smiling?”

“Uh, yeah. I think that’d be a good look for you.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Derek says, so quietly that John almost doesn’t hear him.

John sighs and carries on up the stairs, feeling like he’s intruded on something he shouldn’t have listened to. When he gets into bed, he looks at the photo of Claudia holding a grinning toddler Stiles and shakes his head, chuckling under his breath. “We’ve got one hell of a kid, sweetheart.”

*

Somehow, and John’s not entirely sure how, Stiles managed to get Derek to join them for grocery shopping. He’s fairly certain the words “wolfy strength” were used at some point, and that’s about as much as John wants to know. Being that Derek’s been doing most of the cooking lately, it makes sense to bring him along, even if Stiles and Derek have vanished somewhere into the snacks aisle.

Dejectedly looking at the pre-packaged packs of carrot sticks that Stiles pointed at with a firm nod, John’s about to reach over and grab some when someone taps him on the shoulder. When he turns around, he stifles a groan at the sight of Susan Birkett standing there with a look on her face that tells him this isn’t going to be a pleasant conversation.

“Miss Birkett, what can I help you with?”

“People are saying you’ve taken in that Hale kid,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest. “As the Sheriff of Beacon Hills, do you think you should be doing that?”

John opens his mouth to respond, but before he can, he spots Stiles and Derek coming back, the cart full of too many variations of Oreos, especially since he won’t get to eat any. “Miss Birkett, I don’t think that’s any of your concern,” he says, trying to end the conversation before Derek overhears what she’s bound to say.

“You’re an elected official, Sheriff, how do you think having a murder suspect living with you will reflect on you when you’re up for re-election?”

“Are you threatening my dad?” Stiles stops the cart by the tomatoes and walks over to stand by John, Derek following him. “Over the fact he did a good thing? Something no one in this town bothered to do?”

“Stiles.” Derek touches Stiles’ elbow, talking quietly. “You don’t have to —”

“Yes, I do. I’m not going to stand here and listen to a mean, bitter woman talk like that about my dad, about _you_.”

“You’ve got a lot to say for yourself,” Miss Birkett says, turning her gaze on Stiles. “Funny, I thought all your time was spent running around with that McCall kid. Seems like you broken families all gang together, don’t you?”

“You need to think long and hard before you say another word,” John says quietly. “Before you insult my family and the people we care about any more than you already have.”

“This used to be a nice town,” Miss Birkett says, her hands back on her cart.

It’s then that Derek speaks up. “My family helped build this town. They wanted it to be a safe haven for people who didn’t have much, who needed a home to be themselves in. They’d be proud of what this town is.”

“And you think they’d be proud of you?”

“I knew Derek’s parents,” John says, resting a hand on Derek’s shoulder and squeezing. “I _know_ they’d be proud of him.”

“I think you should go,” Stiles says, standing next to Derek, shoulders pressing together. “And literally never speak to us again, or any of the people we care about.”

As soon as Miss Birkett leaves, John squeezes Derek’s shoulder and lets go. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Derek says, grasping the handle on the cart. “Thank you, I — I don’t know what to say.”

“Small town people with small town minds,” John says. “Ignore her.”

“You didn’t shift,” Stiles says, knocking shoulders with Derek and grinning. “That’s good.”

“You have such low expectations for me.”

“No,” Stiles says with a smile. “I don’t.”

*

Weeks go by and there’s no sign of supernatural activity, which gets John questioning some things. “Is this the calm before the storm?” he asks one day when Derek and Stiles join him for lunch at the station.

Derek steals a handful of Stiles’ chips and frowns at John. “What do you mean?”

“It’s been quiet, supernaturally speaking, and I’m wondering if that means we should be preparing for something bad happening?”

“There isn’t really a pattern,” Derek says, letting Stiles get away with stealing his fries. “The problems we’ve been having were because of the past, I can’t predict what’s going to happen, but I don’t think we need to worry.”

“What about the fact you’re a new alpha?” Stiles asks around a mouthful of fries. “Does that mean other werewolves are going to come and challenge you?”

John wants to laugh at the look Derek gives Stiles, but he can’t deny he’s wondering the same thing.

“What?” Stiles protests, not shrinking under Derek’s gaze. “It’s not like I know anything about this! For all I know, there are going to be werewolves coming out of the woods and challenging you to an epic battle.”

“Epic battle?”

“Fur flying, claws slashing,” Stiles says, waving a hand around. “You know, an epic battle.”

“There aren’t going to be epic battles.”

“How can you be sure?” John asks before Stiles does. “I’m not doubting you, but I don’t want us ambushed.”

Derek’s eyebrows raise and he looks between John and Stiles before shaking his head and John smirks, wondering if Derek’s only just realising what he’s let himself in for by living with them. “Word will be out that Chris Argent is working with us, or at least that he isn’t working against us. My pack is new, but they haven’t hurt anyone, and my name —” Derek cuts himself off, hands twisting together. “The Hale name still means something.”

“Okay,” Stiles says, breaking the quiet that follows. “No ghastly murders in our immediate future, I think that’s a plus.” Downing the remains of his soda, he glances at the clock in the office. “And I have to go.”

“Scott?” Derek asks.

“Yeah. He and Allison, well.” Shrugging, Stiles throws the remains of his lunch in the trash. “He needs some bro time.”

“Remind him about training tomorrow.”

“Will do.” Stiles sticks his hands in his pockets and looks at Derek. “You, uh, want to watch Iron Man tonight? Maybe some other Marvel movies? I bought popcorn.”

John’s fairly amused by the quick glance Derek shoots his way, like John is going to ban them from watching movies together, but he stays quiet as Derek answers in the affirmative to Stiles.

“Awesome, it’s a date — uh. I mean.” Stiles pauses and makes a face before turning and running out of the door calling “bye dad, love you!” over his shoulder.

When John looks at Derek, Derek’s head is ducked, his hands resting in his lap, and if John didn’t think Stiles’ crush was returned before this, he sure as hell does now. Buying some time by biting into the veggie wrap Stiles had brought him, John wonders on how earth he should even approach this. With Lydia, John knew Stiles never had a chance, knew that he’d never have to counsel Stiles through the start of a relationship with her. This, though — this thing with Derek looks like it has legs, and John isn’t sure what he thinks about it.

Derek’s a good kid, he is, John won’t ever dispute that, but this is his _son_. In so many respects, John is proud of the traits Stiles gained from him, but his tendency to fall hard, fast and long is something John finds himself wishing Stiles didn’t get from him. He still remembers the first time he saw Claudia, how he was so sure they’d end up together; he would’ve done anything for her, did do anything for her, when she let him.

“I loved my wife a lot,” John finds himself saying, not entirely sure where he’s going with this. Derek’s watching him, though, a blank look on his face like he’s pushing his emotions down. “She was everything to me, up until the day we had Stiles. I was coming off a long shift, pulling doubles as a deputy to earn a little more for my new family, and as soon as I came home she grabs me by the collar and says that the baby is coming and I’d better goddamn stay awake while she’s going through labour.” Smiling a little at the memory, John carries on. “When Stiles was born, I didn’t know I could love anyone that much, in an entirely new way. After Claudia — when she —” Rubbing a hand over his face, John sighs. “Stiles is all I have left of her. He is the most important thing in the world to me.”

“I understand,” Derek says. “I would never —”

“I don’t think you do understand,” John interrupts, because he knows that look on Derek’s face. That’s a look of resignation and not what John was going for at all. “I love my son, and I want him to be happy with _whoever_ he chooses to be happy with, okay?”

“Okay.”

“That doesn’t mean whoever my son chooses to date shouldn’t be aware I still hold the record at the gun range for accurate shots on target,” John says, unable to resist needling Derek a little.

Derek huffs out a small laugh and nods. “I can respect that.”

“I should hope so.” Contemplating the remains of his veggie wrap, John makes a quick decision. “I’m going to go and see Melissa tonight. Have our weekly parents of the pack meeting a little early.”

“I —”

“Remember that my son is still in high school, Derek. He’ll want to take care of you, but he needs a little caretaking himself. I haven’t —” John swallows, looking down at his hands. “I haven’t always done the best job with that. If I had, maybe he would’ve told me about all this earlier.”

“I don’t think there’s anything you could’ve done to make him open up about this before he did,” Derek says quietly. “Stiles is pretty stubborn about protecting the people he cares about.”

“I guess that’s something you have in common.”

*

“My son’s in love with a werewolf,” John says as soon as Melissa opens the door. “And I gave them both permission to go for it.”

“Hot cocoa?”

“Please. Oreos, if you’ve got them.”

“Stiles will never forgive me.”

“Stiles is having a cosy date with Derek Hale.”

Melissa steps back from the door and waves a hand. “Oreos it is.”

“He’s not a bad guy,” John says, sitting at Melissa’s kitchen table, hand wrapped around a mug of hot cocoa. “He’s broken, but he’s been making progress. And he cares about Stiles.”

“That’s the most important thing.”

John grunts, taking four double stuff Oreos from the packet and piling them up next to his mug. “I know that’s what I should be concentrating on.”

“But?”

“But he’s a _werewolf_ ,” John says around a mouthful of Oreo.

“Huh.”

“What?”

“I thought it would be the age difference. Also, need I remind you that Scott is a werewolf? And Isaac? And Erica and Boyd?”

“Stiles isn’t wanting to date any of them.”

“And the age difference?”

Waving a hand, John sighs. “With everything Derek’s been through, he’s basically Stiles’ age.”

“So what are you worrying about?” Melissa reaches over and steals an Oreo from John’s pile, twisting it and licking the middle out.

“The danger. My kid’s human, Mel, and dating a werewolf only puts him more in harms way.”

“Do you think Derek would protect Stiles above all else?”

“I do. But I also think Stiles would protect Derek above all else, and that scares me.”

“John,” Melissa sighs, touching his forearm. “I think he was doing that before he even worked out what he was feeling about Derek. Now, drink your cocoa so you can go home and disturb them before they do anything you don’t want them doing.”

“You kicking me out, Mel?”

“Call it protecting your son’s virtue.”

*

John makes sure he makes a lot of noise when he comes through the door, and he’s satisfied by the sudden rustling he hears as he gets closer to the living room. Taking a deep breath, he opens the closed door and pokes his head in. “Hi, boys.”

It’s not as bad as he was expecting; they’re both fully dressed, even if Stiles’ shirt has the distinct look of having been pulled back on in a rush, and Derek’s hair is far messier than John has ever seen it before.

“Hi, Dad, have a good evening with Mrs. McCall?”

“Uh huh.”

Stiles frowns at him. “Are those Oreo crumbs in the corner of your mouth?”

Raising an eyebrow at Stiles, John wipes his mouth and ignores the question, gesturing to Stiles and Derek on the couch. “You have a good evening?”

There’s a flush on Stiles’ cheeks as he looks at Derek, one hand creeping over to cover Derek’s fingers. “Yeah,” he says quietly, looking back at John. “We did.”

John eyes them both and nods, offering a smile. “Good. I’m going to bed —”

“Crashing from a sugar high?” Stiles snarks.

“And can I assume you and Derek will be going to bed when this movie is over?”

“Yep, uh huh, after we’ve finished watching Cap fight Nazis, for sure.”

“Remember there’s a whole hallway between your rooms,” John calls as he walks out, unable to resist teasing them. “No sneaking around, I hear everything.”

“Oh my _God_ , Dad, stop.”

John’s upstairs in the hallway when Stiles comes racing up the stairs, pausing on the top stair, hand gripping the bannister. “Hey, Dad?”

“Yeah, kid?”

“Thanks. For being cool about Derek, about the werewolf stuff. I — you’re the best.”

“Come here,” John says, waiting until Stiles joins him in the hallway. Pulling Stiles into a hug, John cups the back of his head and sighs. “You’re my son and I love you. I want you to be happy, okay?”

“‘kay,” Stiles says, his voice muffled in John’s collar. “Love you too, Dad.”

John stands there, holding his son and wondering exactly when Stiles became so grown up, and then he realises that it doesn’t matter; that whenever it happened, Stiles is still and always will be his kid, no matter how grown up he is, or how many werewolves he’s dating and dear God, let Derek be the only one. Squeezing the back of Stiles’ neck, John lets go. “Go and see your boyfriend.”

“He’s not — we haven’t really discussed —” Stiles pauses and huffs. “He can hear all this, you know, so I’m going to shut up.”

“Stiles, if you don’t think Derek is head over heels for you, then I’m going to take you to get your brain checked.”

Nodding, a pleased smile on his face, Stiles mumbles goodnight to John and heads back down the stairs. Shaking his head in amusement, John heads to his bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed and taking his shoes off. “So, Claudia, our kid is dating a werewolf,” he says quietly. “He’s a good kid, I think he’s good for Stiles, think Stiles is good for him. And, yes, werewolves exist. You’re probably laughing at me right now, and I don’t blame you.” Scrubbing a hand over his face, John starts to unbutton his shirt. “I miss you. He does too. Looks more and more like you every day, which is — we’re doing okay, I think. If werewolves are the worst thing I have to deal with when it comes to him, then maybe we’ll make it until he goes to college.” Glancing at the photo of Claudia, John smiles and touches his wedding ring. “I love you.”

*

**Three months later**

“Happy birthday, Sheriff,” Erica says, kissing his cheek and handing over a pack of Oreos. “Hide them from Stiles.”

John laughs, sticking them under a newspaper and rubbing at the red lipstick mark Erica’s left on his face. “You’ll get into trouble with him _and_ Derek,” John says. “Both of them watch me like a hawk.”

“They care about you.” Taking the seat next to John, Erica picks at the food Stiles has laid out. “It’s nice. I don’t think —” Erica looks around and ducks her head, talking quietly. “I think it’s been a long time since Derek’s had people to care about.”

Looking over at where Derek and Boyd are sitting on the grass, talking while Derek keeps one eye on Stiles barbecuing, John nods. “He’s got a lot of people he cares about now. A lot of people who care about him.”

“You helped with that,” Erica says, taking apart a devilled egg. “Gave him somewhere to stay, people to be around.”

“I did what I thought was right.”

“No one else wanted to do it.”

When John looks over at Derek again, he’s kissing Stiles on the cheek and smiling at him, one hand resting low on Stiles’ back as they talk. Stiles flips the burgers and turns into Derek, pecking him on the lips, both of them seemingly at peace. Looking away, John shrugs and quirks a smile at Erica. “It’s pack, right?”

She laughs, loud and bright, and it’s such a change from the scared but brash young lady she was only a few months ago that John joins in, and soon the two of them are laughing so loudly that everyone is looking at them.

“What’s so funny?” Boyd calls over.

“Just —” John waves a hand, trying to get his laughter under control. “Werewolves.”

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://heroderekhale.tumblr.com)


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